Broken plans

At the scene of the crime

Two days ago I broke my wrist. In two places. The fix requires some pins and magic from the bone doctor. He assures me he does this procedure often but that it might mean that I will lose a range of motion with my left hand. That got my attention. I, like other stitchers, use both hands to create work. Typing this with my right hand brings the reality into brighter focus. Luckily I am right handed.

I told a friend of mine recently that I am a five-year planner. In May I spent a month in the glorious spaces at the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts at a residency (see a couple of pics of the grounds below). My plan was to use all the time I could in my big white box studio experimenting with new directions and thoughts. No chores, no interruptions, no tv news. I worked hard all day there. With that time I gained a sense of momentum in the work I was doing. Energized, simplified, textural, subtle. I’m ready to do more.

The doc said it might be six to eight weeks before my wrist will work like it is supposed to. Meanwhile I will be drawing instead of stitching, dreaming instead of planning, resting instead of pushing myself to be more active. I’m throwing plans out the door.

I’ll tell you one thing, it ain’t easy for a planner like me.

Quirk, a soft sculpture

I hope this finds you full of inspirations with time to make them a reality.

Please share your story about how some plans go out the door.

send me your story

I wanted to challenge myself

And, it worked.

Itoshima, Japan

A month-long residency in a rural area of Japan (Itoshima, Studio:Kura) has challenged, inspired and poked me into uncharted territory. I had hoped that the studio would have a sewing machine that I could use. And they do. But. It is a bit of a nuisance to use it and that blocks me from doing the work that I am most comfortable doing. At first I thought I could conquer any machine. If this one was going to be a brat I would tame it to my ways.

My Studio: Kura studio.

You know when children decide to put on a tantrum show it is best to just walk away until they calm themselves. It was me having the tantrum and I realized that this was the first step to being challenged during my time here. That’s what I did. I stepped away from the machine.

I’ve done some hand stitching with colors that are unfamiliar to my hands.

I’ve done some cut paper experiments based on the principle of Notan.

And I have a 25 ft. long roll of rice paper that I have been drawing on. The drawing is about 8 foot long today and continues to grow. The drawing takes me to another dimension and allows me to think.

A detail shot of the 8 ft long rice paper drawing done at Studio:Kura.

I’m almost halfway through the four week stay in this lovely and inspiring place. I thought I might come up with some grand revelations by now. Maybe tomorrow.

Today the scroll is 8 feet long. How long will it be in November? I am thinking about how time is condensing and life is short. I know that I will not see everything there is to see before my end. My art reflects the thoughts and images I cannot put into words.

This beach is about a block away from my studio. This is all I really need in life—a way to see the beauty of the earth itself. It takes my breath away.

Travel Plans

By the time you read this I will be soaring across the midwestern plains to land in Denver. Hurricane Francine notwithstanding. Though I love to travel and meet new people, see new things, breathe new air, I hate the insanity that flying is in these times. Long lines (usually at 5am if you’re from Memphis), cramped quarters, sneezing and coughing passengers. I wear a mask from the moment I get into the airport to the minute I leave the baggage claim.

I’m leaving this unfinished experiment in pattern and color on my design board. It is made from pieces of found fabrics and a discarded quilt top from an unknown artist. It reminds me of the way my mind collects flotsam while walking.

Nonetheless, I persist. This time in a marathon. First stop the Front Range Contemporary Quilters in Denver, then a side trip to Santa Fe, NM, then a week in Taos teaching with Diane Ericson at the Design Outside the Lines retreat, then home for a day to prepare for the next flight. To Japan for an artist residency at Studio:Kura in the Fukuoka Prefecture’s Itoshima Municipality. For five weeks.

I am leaving a beautiful season in Memphis. Fall, with its colors, crisp air and shortening days is an inspiring time of the year. I will witness this autumn in three different places this year. I wonder how they will differ.

Stay tuned for updates on this marathon. I will try to post pics as I travel on.

This is the first sort for my retreat in Japan. When I am at an artist residency my challenge is to bring less and respond to my surroundings with simple tools. I may edit some of this out.

An artist residency

I spent the last two weeks at the Hambidge Center for Creative Arts & Sciences, an artist residency program in northeast Georgia in the beautiful Blue Ridge mountains. The center is intentionally rustic, each of eight studios have no wifi and no cell service. There were writers, musicians, painters and ceramic artists there while I attended. We ate together at the Rockhouse pictured here.

My studio, the Son House, was located down the road from the main facility, surrounded by the forest.

I woke up every morning to the pecking of a woodpecker outside my door. My daily schedule included reading, hiking and experimenting. During the first week I spent most of my time hiking. The Center has a number of well marked trails through the woods with streams, waterfalls and overlooks. Just splendid. My phone served as a record keeper of the fantastic textures, details and drama I walked through each day.

We had two days of rain when I was able to focus on my work instead of ambling around in a daze. I did some painting, some origami, some stitching, some drawing, some wrapping. I learned a little about Dynamic Symmetry—the law of natural design based upon the symmetry of growth in man and in plants originally theorized by Jay Hambidge back in the early 20th century. I used his dynamic rectangle diagram as a starting point for these drawings.

I brought my black locust thorns project with me as a meditation. These thorns are very sharp and require concentration and calm when I wrap them. The thread comes from my work. I wrapped a thorn each day. I think I have accumulated about 30 wrapped thorns so far.

Here’s what I learned from this residency:

  • go with no expectations

  • pay attention to the silence

  • work if you are inspired but don’t work if it feels forced

Most of the stitching I did while at Hambidge was a mess. I had to let go of my goal-oriented mindset to be able to find a new rhythm.

I’ll miss the silence in these woods, the fresh mountain air, the emerging life. The experience was a gift to my cluttered mind. It opened up some fresh thoughts.

Books I read while there:

  • The Pioneers: The Heroic Story of the Settlers Who Brought the American Ideal West by David McCullough (18th century pioneers travel down the Ohio river. The politics and policies behind the expansion to the west is told through diaries)

  • The Dry by Jane Harper (a mystery set in drought stricken Australia about an unsolved death of a teenage girl.)

  • Gilead: A Novel by Marilynne Robinson (a moving and intimate letter from an Iowa preacher and father to his son as a last revealing message before he dies)

One of several new forms I made while experimenting with shape.

Packing light?

I pride myself on packing light when traveling. So in preparation for my 2 week stay at the Hambidge Artist Residency in Georgia starting next week I am sorting through what to bring. I have to admit it is keeping me up at night trying to decide. Clothing is easy, supplies for art not so much.

blank canvas

Should I be a minimalist and bring nothing but blank canvas and black thread?

a bag full of cut up quilts

Or, perhaps I should bring a selection of my cut up quilts to reconfigure?

raw materials

Maybe I should concentrate on the nature surrounding me at the retreat and build a new body of work focused on that?

My first impulse was to disassemble and reassemble two quilts into one piece. Cutting things up is always cathartic and revelatory.

extra time to read?

Two weeks of reading and hiking sounds glorious. Can I take a break from making art?

Or maybe this is the perfect time to sit down and figure out exactly why I do this work? No stitching allowed?

This may be one of those times when packing light won’t work. I’ll just bring fewer clothes so that there is room in the car for the toys. Ready or not…